The Problem of Evil
by Charles Bhepin
Summary: Because removing evil is not the same as creating good. How to direct Demiurge's sadism towards more useful pursuits.


**The Problem of Evil**

* * *

I, Demiurge, hurried to obey the summons. But when I arrived I saw that Narberal Gamma was already standing by Lord Momonga. It was the Guild Leader of Nazarick's own private study, and it was only right that there should be a maid always ready to tend to any of his needs. Yet as strong as she was, Narberal Gamma was not the strongest among the Seven Pleiades sisters, even if she was the personal creation of the Supreme Being Nishikenrai.

Surely someone stronger would be more appropriate. Yet if Lord Momonga wished her to stay, then I had no reason to complain. I had hoped this would be a private council. Information was power, and a mere Pleiades was a weak point.

I dropped to one knee and bowed. "Forgive me, Great One, for my tardiness."

I saw my reflection upon the dark marble tiled floor. I, Demiurge looked almost stereotypical as a demon of temptation, thin and tall and sharp in my red pinstripe suit. My eyes were hidden under the mysterious glint of round eyeglasses. Though I lacked a horn, I did possess a thick prehensile metal-plated silver tail with six spikes at the end. My ears were large and pointed and more like a goblin than an elf, for ten of my levels was in Imp. I would never be able to pass myself off as a human without an adequate disguise or shapeshifting.

Narberal Gamma looked simply like a maid wearing an armored skirt. Her race was that of the Doppelganger, and the one with most ease at disguising themselves as the lesser creatures. She was an elegant, pale-skinned beauty, but her face contained such a perfect calm that only an emotionless marionette could surpass.

I was reminded that as I was the personal creation of the Supreme Being Lord Ulbert Ian Odle, Lord Momonga's own personal creation and Guardian of the Treasury was a Doppelganger as well.

"Mm. Demiurge. Good." Lord Momonga scratched at the fleshless curve of his noble chin. The master of Nazarick, the last of the Supreme Beings, was a Lich. Our Lord was literally big-boned, a skeleton of epic stature under his sage robes that exposed most of his ribcage and the strange blood-colored sphere nestled into his thorax. "Or rather, not Good. Because we are, after all, Evil creatures – aren't we?"

He let out a dark rumbling chuckle. "I summoned you here for a little talk about that."

"By your will, my Lord. What would you like to know? All of Nazarick stands ready to serve you."

"Demiurge, tell me. What is Evil? In two sentences at most."

"Evil is the glorious alignment that prevails, the truth of power! That there is nothing greater than the Supreme Beings and Nazarick!"

"Wow so fast!" Lord Momonga murmured. "Is that it? You are Evil because that's what it says on our character sheet?"

"My Lord, if you wished to have a discussion over the concept of Evil, it would certainly be my pleasure to do so! My greatest ultimate pleasure that you would indulge me with even the time to hear my views on the subject. There is a great many things that could be said, but at its very core Evil is an exaltation of the sin of selfishness. It is repudiation of the concept of kindness, and mercy, and the delusion of justice. Evil is the way to power, all other things simply obstacles onto the one real virtue – self-pleasure.

We in Nazarick are considered Evil and unnatural, enemies of all the good, because we take our right to exist as we wish of supreme importance. Nothing is sacred, everything is permissible." Demiurge bowed his head and his mouth split open into a saw-toothed grin. "All things exist for the pleasure of the Supreme Beings. We are all Evil, but it is our greatest pleasure to serve you."

"Interesting. So you're a Foundationalist sort of Evil. I am an Expressionist, which is somewhat similar."

I licked my lips. I remembered well my own creator, Lord Ulbert Ian Odle, arguing with other Supreme Beings of these values – specially Lord Touch Me, the co-founder of the Guild alongside Lord Momonga, and one who paradoxically had virtues similar to those who paint themselves as Righteous. The pain of being abandoned rankled again, but the wistful longing of nostalgia cut even deeper. "My Lord, could I ask you to explain the difference?"

"Well that is simple. You said Evil was the way to power. The main difference is that my way is… Power Itself."

Then I felt myself being forced to the cold floor, as if a great burning weight pressed upon me. I tasted fear from the roof of my mouth, the same way any being should when being confronted by the supreme predator. It suffused my very being and sapped all strength, the knowledge of myinferiority being pressed straight into my bones, the simple presence of a Supreme One! How grand! How dominating!

And from the corner of my eye I saw that Narberal was much less affected. I clacked my tongue. I was Level 100, she was merely Level 65. How illogical.

Lord Momonga pulled back on his power and I, Demiurge, pushed myself back to my kneeling position. "T-thank you for this demonstration, my Lord."

Narberal Gamma let out a small gasp and jerked in place. Belatedly I realized that the terror must have been so intense as to knock her out while standing. Amazing, Lord Momonga!

"The more technical difference is the topic of cruelty. If self-satisfaction is the point of Evil, then what is the use of cruelty? Not to say that cruelty cannot be enjoyable, but is not, strictly, a necessity," said Lord Momonga. "But without cruelty, would it not be a lesser form of Evil? What do you think, Demiurge?"

"Surely not, my Lord! Its qualities are surely greater than what I can comprehend."

"You are being tested, Demiurge," Lord Momonga said offhand. "If you can only parrot what I say back at me, I cannot depend on you for intelligent conversation. Use the brain my friend gave you, and speak to me according to your understanding of your own values."

Here I felt lightning spark straight up my spine and set my mind aflame. A test. Of course! It was shaming the Supreme Being that I would ever perform less than my very best to answer their every request. With true sorrow I shouted out "Forgive me! My Lord! I was wrong! Please allow me one more chance!"

"Then speak."

"I believe cruelty is the art to being evil. While it might add some unnecessary effort, purely utilitarian Evil is impersonal. How imaginative they are in cruelty is one of the best ways for different forms of Evil to distinguish themselves."

"Excellent. I accept this view. I suppose you consider yourself an artisan of cruelty, correct?"

His praise warmed my heart, as undeserving as it may be. "In some small way, my Lord."

"You can drive beings into the pit of despair, you can inflict such torments upon then, and think of inventive ways to flense and corrupt their flesh."

I, Demiurge, grinned again. "Yes, yes, Lord Momonga. Someday I hope that I might be able to display to you my art."

"Evil is the cause of suffering. Power is merely power. Evil and Good have different routes to power. But without abusing said power, there is only at best Neutrality. Do you accept this, Demiurge?"

"That makes perfect sense, Lord Momonga."

A long silence passed. My skin prickled. I felt that I was being judged. I reviewed the recent conversation in his head again and again, and felt that while I could do better there was just no idea _how_. Lord Momonga's words were simple, yet wrapped in profundities.

"Demiurge, how have you suffered?"

Ah! An interesting route. Was Lord Momonga asking me to drive the conversation into how a true artist cannot really understand his craft until he had experienced it himself? I, Demiurge, could not consider myself lacking in this, as I had been sometimes driven to experiment on my person in pursuit of my craft. But I had to admit, though I was not the strongest among the Floor Guardians my sheer physical abilities made me difficult to torture. Our granted intellect and strength of will and our absolute loyalty to the Supreme Ones made it almost impossible to drive us to despair. The closest we had ever gotten was the knowledge that Nazarick had been abandoned by its creators, save for one.

I could almost taste it. Surely Lord Momonga was disappointed in me. I dared to call myself an artisan with such limited understanding.

But at the same time… if one had to suffer to truly know how to best inflict suffering, does this mean at some point Lord Momonga had to be weak and helpless under someone else's cruel hands? Unthinkable!

"Narberal, come here," Lord Momonga ordered. The battle maid approached, crossing the distance in one flying step. "Give me your hand."

Her black-gloved fingers seemed so slim and fragile in the grip of Lord Momonga's thick white bones.

"Demiurge, raise your head." The demonic floor boss obeyed. "How would you cause Narberal to suffer?"

Demiurge narrowed his eyes, and his glasses glinted. Not a hint of fear appeared on Narberal Gamma's face. "My Lord, there are so many ways to approach this question."

"Without touching her, without causing physical harm, or even lasting mental harm. Not by your hand nor by any other's."

I worked my jaw from side to side, the points of my teeth grinding together. What a conundrum. How would that still be cruelty? Perhaps rather than a systematic application of torture, a burst of pain and suffering? "Perhaps something with the mind… no. No, wait. Of course!" My face split open into a savage leer as I hit upon the answer he was obviously hinting me to reach with his words from earlier. "Her attachments. Find what she cares for and destroy it. Isolate her. Destroy her social standing. Remove her reason for existence! Discard and destroy!"

Lord Momonga's eyes glowed with a calculating intensity. A low groan issued forth from inside his breathless jaws. He gently patted the Narberal's palm with his other hand and gestured for her to step back.

"How… disappointing, Demiurge."

"Urk!" I clutched at my chest and collapsed from kneeling to crawling on the floor. I had failed the test. Such a simple test, how could I?! Aaah. The taste of failure. So this was suffering!

But the intellectual part of me could not give up so easily. Slowly, painfully, I raised my head and gave my master a pained grimace. "L-lord Momonga…. Please tell me. What was the right answer?"

"It is not so much the right answer as that your answer was… limited. Not wrong. Simply… insufficient."

That felt that so much worse. Being wrong was one thing, being seen as incompetent was another. "P-please instruct me, Lord Momonga!"

He nodded tolerantly. "Then know this. As an Evil being it is my dispensation to cause suffering however and to whomever I wish."

"So take for example, Narberal." Lord Momonga pointed at the maid. "Look at that dead, contemptuous gaze. Inspiring, no? Narberal, what do you think of humans?"

"They are insects."

"… that is honestly insulting, Narberal. Some of our most loyal fellows in Nazarick are insects."

Her eyes widened, showing naked fear. "… I beg your forgiveness, Lord. I misspoke. Insects are a proud existence-" Narberal hurriedly spoke as she bowed. She remembered that the race of Lord Touch Me was actually Insect. "Humans are less than insects. They are filth!" she spat out the last word.

"I do not disagree," our great Lord replied. Then he turned towards me again. "But consider this. Narberal's loyalty is absolute. I have faith in this."

Ah, to be acknowledged by the Supreme Beings! Narberal's joy was almost palpable, though none of it showed on her expression. Truly Lord Momonga knows us best.

"You will fulfill any order I give, won't you Narberal?" Before she could respond, Lord Momonga added "But what if I give you this mission? Go out of Nazarick, Narberal Gamma. You are among the few of my creatures that could successfully pass as human. Go out. Act human.

Find a human adventurer. Capture him with your wiles. Bear his child."

Narberal's left eye narrowed slightly. "As you wish. I would obey with all my heart. But… milord, that sounds…"

"Who do you think I am? Given Nazarick's magic, surely I will find a way to allow him to defile your inner being with his seed and a filthy mortal urchin to grow within your womb, an existence half debased and half sublime." All this time, our Lord had not glanced at Narberal. His gaze was fixed upon me, weighing me, studying my expression. But now that I too held his focused attention I was left almost insensate by a mix of utter pleasure and terror. "What do you think about that, Demiurge?"

"Whatever your will, my Lord, we shall accomplish to our utmost!" I replied.

"No matter how humiliating it is?"

"Of course!" Surely there was a reason for such a sickening thing to happen. Already I was thinking how to make it happen. Perhaps if I tear open Narberal's womb and implant a human's reproductive organs… then how to make sure her body does not reject the implantation? An interesting challenge to be sure, Lord Momonga!

"There is no plan. I would simply enjoy watching Narberal _suffer_ , acting the part of a doting mother to her misbegotten mistake of an offspring, and a loving wife to a mortal that deserves none of her."

… That… that is fine too. "Whatever you desire, Lord!"

"Most of Nazarick has a Sense of Justice at negative one hundred. You all know there is no such atom of Justice, not an iota of Fairness in the universe. Evil is to cause suffering. By what delusion were you all ever confident that I could not do evil to you according to my whim?"

"None at all, Lord! We shall be glad to suffer, we gladly die for your pleasure!" I and Narberal declared at the same time, placing our hands over our hearts in obeisance.

"But because you do that is what makes it uninteresting, Demiurge. It is not loyalty that protects you. Merely that it will be more of an inconvenience than anything."

"A tool has no right to decide how its master uses it. The Supreme Beings made us, it is your right to dispose of us as you will."

Lord Momonga tapped his flawless fleshless fingers upon the armrests of his chair. From the ring finger to the index finger, his pinky finger and thumb spread open like wings. "A decade would do. Narberal would whisper to the child of his great destiny, she would act completely against her own nature. She would suffer and suffer and then suddenly – she would disappear from his life.

The light of their home vanished, and ominous portents would arise. Such a child would take up the sword and become a strong and dedicated adventurer, chasing here and there the clues of his mother's disappearance.

Such a fool I could direct to travel anywhere, and fight against anything by Narberal's mere shadow. How long will he struggle, between the wish to recover the happiness of his childhood or the happiness he could have in the present by abandoning his quest? I could prod him endlessly, torment him with signs of his failure.

Caught between the past and the future, between human and monster, between his delusion of good and our all-too-real evil, it would be a much more interesting puzzle to keep such a flawed creature teetering on the brink.

A weapon, pathetic as it may be, that cannot be traced to Nazarick."

So there is a plan! I was right, we should never doubt Lord Momonga.

"How do you think it should end, Narberal? Which would be most satisfying to you? For him to enter our great Tomb, to stand here before my throne, and offered the chance to join us? And whether he answers yes or no, I would finally allow it – for you to reveal your sheer HATE, your sheer DISGUST for his existence, and slay him to erase the stain on your honor.

Or perhaps on his deathbed? To know that it was all for nothing. That he abandoned it all, and because of it everything he ever valued in his life will now burn? His cursed bloodline shall be extinguished – his own wife, his own children, his town, his kingdom – all will die. Because he failed to hold on until the end. The game is not won if you refuse to play.

I know you have emotions in there, Narberal. I know that all of Nazarick is joyful at anything that serves me. But to be directed to slaughter anything I point my finger at is merely your duty. But to make it _personal_ , to finally unleash your inner self after keeping it contained and under pressure for so long? I wonder… would that finally put a smile on that face?"

Narberal blinked. Her lips opened a fraction. She imagined how it would feel, to crush and destroy her own child. I could see the awareness subtly pass across her face. It would be _glorious_.

Would it be worth ten years? That was an irrelevant question!

Lord Momonga wished for it to happen. Nothing else mattered.

But I could see our Lord's point. Enjoyment deferred could indeed be enjoyment amplified.

"Demiurge, my plan was flawed."

I was stunned for a moment. But now I could more confidently reply, "In what manner, my Lord?" My voice had all the eagerness of a student.

"Obviously Narberal herself. It has so many failure points. Could you really expect Narberal to entice a human adventurer and act as a doting mother? For ten years?"

I, Demiurge, glanced at the impassive maid. That was indeed difficult to imagine. "But my Lord, if it is your will, then she can only do her best to comply."

"At no point did I say I would send her out without training, nor that I would not watch her to fully enjoy her suffering. It is easy to inflict cruelty when you have another being completely in your power. When there are independent variables… that requires _skill_."

I straightened my back to sit at attention. I was enlightened!

He spoke "Conquest, mass slaughter, torture and devastation. Things like making human skin leather, or roasting children and forcing their parents to eat them–" And I thought: _What interesting ideas, Lord Momonga!_ "... these are shocking to mortals, but so straightforward and simplistic." _Horrible ideas, so plain, what was I thinking?_

"These pedestrian amusements are no longer interesting to me, Demiurge." Lord Momonga steepled his fingers under his chin.

His glowing eyes pulsed, bright and dim, bright and dim, like a heartbeat. "It would amuse me more to see my creations suffer, because you are far closer to my level, my children almost, and it would interest me to see how far you can go before you break. How can I break you, Demiurge?"

I had no words. Fear, of course, it consumed me. At the same time, I felt a strange pleasure, to be the center of Lord Momonga's attention. ' _I am already breaking!'_ I wanted to shout, but surely he already knew that.

"How long before your suffering drives you to the thought of treason?"

"NEVER!" I shouted out suddenly. "My Lord on this, you can rest assured. Only command it, and I shall destroy myself utterly in your name."

"As I said before, that just makes it boring. And to deny me my pleasure, what is that?"

I grit my teeth and bowed, pressing my forehead to the floor. "Forgive me Lord! Forgive me! But the thought of ever betraying you, I cannot bear it!"

"It wouldn't even be that difficult. You are a prideful creature, Demiurge, as designed to perfection by my friend. You serve me, but I am not your maker.

You know I have no need for a creature that obeys only my direct commands and no further. Who are my servants to demand _me_ to spend my time and mental effort to micro-manage their lives?

But how soon before you add embellishments to my orders as you seek to impress me? How soon before you think of how to suppress other servants on Nazarick, so that I trust you above all others? How soon before you stress over the meaning behind my words?

"I would never-"

"And you are already starting to lie to me. How fascinating."

 _My Looord! Mercy! Mercy my Lord!_

"Look up, Demiurge."

I beheld Lord Momonga open his hand out towards my face. "I created something special, just for you. I could destroy you with a word, bypassing all defenses and protections. All I have to do is to close this hand. I call this – the PSYCHO CRUSHER!"

He closed his hand into a fist.

I began screaming. Lord Momonga! _'_ _I am breaking! I am breaking! For your glory, my Lord!'_ Blood began to seep out of my orifices, I could feel my energies lose cohesion. Such is the power of the Supreme Beings, they can create as easily as they destroy!

"Demiurge, stop."

I… live?"

Has he shown my unworthy self mercy? Had I been so weak as to scream out my pleas?

I opened my eyes to see Lord Momonga peering at me, leaning over my fallen body. "I was lying to you. There is no such spell. I had actually expecting a little more discussion from nothing happening."

"But… but… I felt it." There was no such spell and yet… ! It was no lie. He almost destroyed me with but a word! Lord Momonga! My admiration for your intellect is infinite! It would be the greatest of pleasures to serve you in whatever small way.

"To apply force from a distance, to command without being heard, to move without being seen. To do the least harm for the greatest result, to make the enemy destroy themselves. This is the height of artfulness," he spoke, his words reverberating inside my being. "You are still far from this level, Demiurge."

Apparently my admiration could go beyond infinite, I had no idea.

"You are limited by how we made you. I am sure you pride yourself in being a devious mastermind, but… really… Demiurge. You are a child to my eyes."

Ah, this crushing feeling. Of course, that is the truth. I was nothing before the Supreme Beings.

"You are allowed to cry, Demiurge."

"I am not crying… I am not." I discreetly raised a finger to my eyes. Of course I was not. I was not made to cry, it would be undignified. I felt Lord Momonga's light touch on my shoulder and thought sharply about how so much I was such a limited and inferior creature.

The other Guardians were made primarily for battle, I was made to administrate Nazarick. Lord Momonga knew me more than I knew myself. He had already foreseen my failures.

"So this is why, I ask you and Nazarick not to worry. I am who I am, and I do as I will. If I sometimes order you to act against your own natures – what do you do?"

"We obey!" I spoke firmly.

"I will break you, any of you, when I wish to have you become greater than this… container… we have made of you. But until then, I desire for each of you to suffer gladly."

Lord Momonga stood up and returned to his throne. "Good, and Heroes, they are somewhat amusing in their own short-sighted ways. They are such hypocrites. They can do so many evil things in the name of the Greater Good, theocracies in particular can be as oppressive as they like and can call themselves virtuous. But since that is the case, then why I can I not perform Good in order to serve the Greater Evil?"

Magic spurted from his fingertips and he drew a symbol in the air. A circle, cut into two equal curving shapes almost like fish swimming in a circle. He drew two smaller circles into the larger portions of the shapes. One shape he made bright, with a dark spot and the other had a bright dot in the middle of black.

"Something like this. Yin and Yang. Destruction and Creation. Supremacy and Submission. Balance, always in Motion. This is an old symbol."

"I have seen this before, my lord. Enemy Monks wear this symbol."

"They wear it without understanding. It has nothing to do with Good and Evil." He sent the symbol spinning and added "I am Evil, we are all Evil, because we act unrestrained according to our own interests. This is how others call us, and that is perfectly satisfying to me. But we should not allow our actions to be locked according to the opinion of others.

I would do Evil against Evil, because it annoys me to see other beings plot and scheme and disrespect the craft I love so much."

I was beginning to understand. How frustrating it must have been for our Lord, to have to endure the sight of his lessers. Their fumbling ignorance. Their messiness. How unjustifiably arrogant I must have been acting in front of him, enough that he could stand it no longer and needed to speak to me so straightforwardly because I was too inept to see his previous hints at correcting my ways! I must work even harder to redeem myself.

"Demiurge! Hear me!"

"Yes, Lord!"

"Such pathetic worms that dare call themselves villains! Heroes we can use, again and again, for they are so trivial to manipulate and can at least be used to test our forces. But these pretentious curs that dare to claim the world before us! I order you to crush them, and make them fully aware of their inferiority!

Not through brute violence! Not through strength! Not through magic! Beneath me, there is you! And before your deviousness, there are nothing but worms! Find them! Crush them! We shall sweep all before us! For Nazarick!"

"YES, MY LORD! HAIL MOMONGA! HAIL NAZARICK!" My Lord, you are too generous to me!

Lord Momonga paused for a short while and said pensively, "… of course, some of our most loyal fellows in Nazarick _are_ worms, so no offense meant to them."

"… Of course, Lord Momonga. I shall let them know of your regard for them."

"Then go, Demiurge. Do not disappoint me."

"Never again, my Lord." I rose to my feet, bowed, and walking backwards without daring to turn my back on his glory, left his private room.

Once the door closed before me, it was only then that I could allow myself to stumble. I began to laugh. Mad, out of control laughter. I had lost everything and gained everything again. The distance between a master and a novice was truly unimaginable. What thoughts must be whirling in his mind now that he had divested himself of this trifle?

 _Sasuga, Momon-sama._

-x-

* * *

"How do I get Albedo to be less creepy? Dammit nothing works. At this rate, she's going to explode into the Legendary Super Yandere by next week." Momonga retained his fingers laced together in a Gendo pose, but his right knee was twitching up and down uncontrollably.

"All things are under your power, Momon-sama" said Narberal Gamma.

"Not this one, Nabe. Not this one."

-x-


End file.
